Foreshadow
by HelloDarlingLove
Summary: (sequel to 'Sideshow') Catch me, heal me, lift me back up to the sun. Help me survive the bottom. [M for violence, language, sexual content, potential triggers]
1. Intro

Twenty years, a large enough chunk of human time, was but a blink in his life. Twenty years could go by so fast for the comfortable, the easy-going. But for him the past twenty years had been a grueling drag of futilely wasted time. Each passing moment a glaring reminder of failure. This mission was to be only twenty of the human's Earth-years, yet here he was nearing the end of that time and he'd accomplished next to nothing. His leaders would be checking in soon, and when they realized how little he'd done they would be deathly furious. The past twenty years he'd spent struggling, failing, grappling with a task somehow more daunting than he'd ever imagined.

The next twenty years to come, unbeknownst to him, were to be an unimaginable nightmare.


	2. Cargo

Red eyes glinted like demonic possession as the alien glared from his containment. He watched the money exchange hands and lifted a lip in a silent snarl as the human male leaned to peer into his crate through the tiny barred slot on the door. The man rapped on the cage with a knuckle and laughed as the Irken just glared, silent and sullen with his back pressed against the smooth metal of the cage. Streetlight peeked in through the small holes on the side of the cage, casting lopsided circles of sickly yellow on him. The cage jolted and began moving as he was pushed away from the meeting place and lifted into a vehicle.

The drugs pulsing through his system kept him subdued, quiet and watchful. He was aware of everything going on around him yet there was a certain distance, a disconnect between what he saw and his center of caring. He sat in the corner of the somewhat roomy cage, arms curled around himself in a tight hug and bound behind his back at the wrists, his inhuman flexibility tested. He stared down at his boots silently, antennae twitching as he listened to the vehicle's engine, the tires gripping the asphalt as it passed beneath. If he focused his attention he could hear the human driving, his self-obsessed mumbling and the smack of gum between his teeth, which he could also scent. But he chose not to focus on anything but his boots, suddenly fascinated with how well they'd served him these twenty-ish years. Good boots, good Irken products, just like his uniform.

The vehicle rolled to a stop and the back door opened, his cage rocking again as he was pulled out and pushed across the dark parking lot. He leaned to look out through one of the holes in the metal side, scanning the area for anything familiar. His antennae twitched at the salty taste of ocean mixed with the unpleasant scents he'd learned over the years belong to what humans referred to as 'cattle'; cows, sheep, pigs. Animals bred for slaughter and consumption, either as food or material products. He watched as his crate was rolled up to a line of others just like it and the human lit a cigarette, taking a deep breath and leaning down to blow it into his face before he could move away. The smoke didn't bother him aside from the scent on his antennae, his PAK filtered the Earth air before it ever reached his lungs. He sat back against the corner and glowered at the human, eyes narrowed to slits. The man chuckled and patted his pocket.

"You've made me a lot of money, petite bite," he chuckled. A dock worker approached, clipboard in hand, and called out in a language only vaguely familiar to the alien. The man straightened and conversed with him. Zim noted the one-hundred dollar bill pass between them and the dock worker pocketed it, scratching something down on his clipboard and then lifting a radio from his belt to speak into. Cigarette man left and Zim watched as crates of pigs were pushed towards a ramp connecting the large transport ship to the dock. He was mixed in with the animals and watched from his tiny peepholes as he and the animals were loaded and strapped in rows on the vessel. Light was almost entirely blocked out as other crates were stacked atop, beside, and in front of his. The scent of the animals became suffocating and he laid down uncomfortably, curling up on the cold metal and closing his eyes as he felt suddenly and impossibly tired. The pigs grunted and squeaked and shit in their crates and he slept, surrendering to the drugs circulating through his system and lulled deeper by the rocking of the ship.


End file.
